Killing Time
by DidosLament
Summary: GenmaTsunade. Konoha has too much time on its hands. Here is how two shinobi are spending it. Between first series and Shippuden. Sort of romance, sort of angst, sort of humor... not really anything in particular. Flashfic for phoenixflash!


Genma knew how to fill time. How to occupy the little minutes and spaces and how to paste together days and weeks, months and years. He had a whole catalog of appropriate activities for varying allotments of time.

A few bored minutes waiting outside the Hokage's office? Chew on senbon. Waiting outside? Chew on senbon and watch girls.

An hour or so? Lacking Kakashi's _Icha Icha_ habit – something he had, contrary to popular opinion, _not_ picked up from himself – Genma usually made up haiku in his head. It required a certain amount of creativity and mental agility, so he also counted this as training.

Training, cobbled together with evenings at the nearest pub, could fill any number of days. Combined with his shifts on guard duty and on the Hokage's personal attachment, he could pass weeks without any (outward) sign of cabin fever. While leading comparatively eventful lives, most shinobi were creatures of habit and Genma was no exception. And Genma's life, like those of his generation and older, had already been more eventful than average for their profession – he took solace in habit.

He supposed this was a skill common to bachelors, even though, _also_ contrary to popular opinion, he did not spend all his nights wining and wooing and breaking hearts.

He liked to read and (if he did say so himself) rather refined taste in literature (and not refined taste in _adult_ literature). Every once in a while he bothered to write down one of the haiku he made up while waiting on the Hokage. He liked to cook, maintained an herb garden, and had made forays into doing his own brewing. And (although he would never admit it to anyone, ever) he mended his own clothes. The last task, given his professional life of dodging kunai, senbon, shuriken, and other assorted weapons that could rend cloth as well as flesh, could take many, many hours.

Still, upon reflection, Genma had to admit that he'd been frequenting the watering holes more than usual lately. But he wasn't alone. The whole of Konoha seemed restless. The last time he had seen so many shinobi at the pubs (out of which he refused to name a favorite) had been during the final days and the aftermath of the last war. That was when he had met most of his current drinking buddies, now his fellow jounin. There was a reason that so few of his classmates had remained chuunin, and it was also what bound his friends together now. They had all either been exceptionally skilled and survived, or they had died.

But this was different. Before, everything was a bloody mess and everyone was in a bloody hurry and the only thing that could slow it down was the drinking. And so they drank to forget for a few moments between the front lines and the hospital. But now, there was no hurry and there was no idea of what lay ahead or behind. All they had were the names – Akatsuki and Orochimaru – and the knowledge that this time _they_ would come _here_. There would be no front line – only Konoha. They knew that much, but they didn't know _when_.

And so the Hokage sent variations of Team Kakashi out over and over and kept most of the jounin close. Which left Genma with a lot of time to fill.

----------

Tsunade knew how to forget time. To ignore the ever-present threat that refused to do anything other than name itself. She did it by getting drunker than most, and more often than Shizune would prefer. Maybe she wanted to ignore it more than anyone else precisely because she knew – _better_ than anyone else – what lay behind one of the names.

So she drank a bit even in the morning because even if she was barely buzzed it made sending Sakura and Naruto and others of the Leaf's brightest young shinobi on missions she wouldn't give most jounin just a little bit easier. She was just a little tipsy by the end of the work day because she knew Uchiha Sasuke, and she knew her own men and women, and she just _knew_ that some day someone would walk into her office and tell her that one of her teammates was dead… and they would be _relieved_. And then she went to the pub later because she knew _she_ would feel relieved and wanted to forget, for just a bit, that there was no path backwards, no way to erase what he had done, and no way to do anything other than move forward with all her conviction and that of her people.

And then, on one not-quite-drunk-enough evening, when she was still too lucid on current events, a person showed up in _her_ bar that reminded her too strongly of time past. She hadn't seen Genma in a bar in years – he had been oh-so-_young_ then – and the memories it revived were not pleasant, but they were also not of Orochimaru and she'd had just enough to wave him over when he would have politely ignored his superior's presence and found himself a dark corner. Or a woman at the bar.

Maybe it was the presence of his boss in a setting he was not accustomed to dealing with her in that made him less smooth than normal – he'd forgotten to order a drink before making his way to her table – but she seemed willing enough to share her sake. It always came with two cups anyway.

While she welcomed the company, she did not welcome the memories he brought with him, so she was more direct than polite with him.

"How come I've never seen you here before?"

"I'm not much of a drinker."

She gave a disbelieving snort.

"It's the truth," he responded, nonplussed.

"Well, you know I am, so I guess that makes this arrangement a good one."

"Really? I could think of a better one."

… _Shit. WHY did I say that?_ They'd been talking like any man and any woman at a bar and the come on had just slipped out by force of habit and there had to be a good recovery…

Tsunade's years were not for naught and she knew a man in panic when she saw one. To be fair, he was did a good job of hiding, but she saw the senbon in his mouth drop just a little bit before he closed his teeth and tightened his lips. She knew it was a bad idea, but she was drunk and he was tired of waiting around for something to happen and she decided maybe there were other ways to kill time than drinking…

"And would your better arrangement happen to involve you putting something other than that senbon in your mouth?"

Over the noise in the bar she heard the senbon clink faintly on the floor.

"I'll take that as a yes."

-Fin-

AN: Sorry for the abrupt ending… I have more written but it doesn't work yet and this seemed like a complete enough story on its own – how and why they ended up together for a bit, rather than what they do with their new pastime.


End file.
